


Blind Faith, Round Two

by denynothing1



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-12-16
Updated: 2001-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-27 06:49:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/659090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/denynothing1/pseuds/denynothing1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peace makes strange bedfellows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blind Faith, Round Two

**Author's Note:**

> It helps if you've seen "One Breath" and "Hollywood A.D."

"Hey, Skinman!"

Skinner turned and watched his friend loping across the quad. 

"306, man!" Wayne hollered, waving a crumpled paper over his head like a victory banner. "306! Adios, 'Nam, Hollywood, here I come!"

When they were assigned to room together, four years before, they hadn't had much in common. Skinner was two years older. He had a livid scar across his back, and an even deeper one on his psyche. He wouldn't explain the first, knew the weight of the second kept him apart.

Once in a while, they'd lean out their dorm room window, enjoying the colorful flocks of co-eds fluttering by in short skirts and teased-high hair. They'd get drunk together occasionally, tell each other lies. That was about it, till the night the flash-bangs behind his eyes drove Skinner from his bed. He found Wayne in the lounge, chanting Bogart's lines as the Maltese falcon changed hands. It became a late-night ritual. In the flickering shadows of possibility, where the flawed hero could lose the war but win the battle for his soul, they bonded.

"Come on, man! 306! Might as well be a thousand. The goddamn war's gonna be over in six months and they're never gonna get me now." Wayne crumpled the draft lottery notice into a ball and sent it towards the stratosphere. "One more month till graduation and we're loading up the Chevy and heading for tinsel town. Beer's on me!"

Before the paper grenade hit the ground, Skinner caught it and handed it back. "I'll meet you at The Eight Ball in a few, Wayne. Something I've got to do first."

"Solid, man, but don't be late. Beer's gonna be an endangered species in about half an hour." Wayne's jubilation dissolved into a worried frown as he peered up into Skinner's eyes. 

"You ain't gonna flake on me, are you, man? I mean, Cagney and Bogie had stunt doubles, you dig? They use real guns in the F.B.I. Not to mention they're all a bunch of fascists. You know that, right? Seriously, man, you already did the duty to your country thing. Enough already. You don't have to volunteer to get dead all over again."

A flash of rage made Skinner's voice throb. "Getting dead was never what I volunteered for, Federman." He paused, hearing the paper in Wayne's hand crackle nervously. "You dig?"

"Easy, man, easy." Wayne reached for Skinner's arm again. "It's just… you got a future now and it ain't wire tapping Micah Hoffman." He must have found what he wanted to see on Skinner's face, because his grin returned. "Alright, man. I'll see you later." He thumped Skinner on the back, then started to jog away. 

As he reached the edge of the quad, he turned and shouted, "You know, we're gonna make a movie about you some day, Skinman. Gonna call it 'The Last Superhero.' Woo-hoo!"

Skinner watched his friend do an ungainly three-sixty and jump over the low hedge bordering the sidewalk. Calm purpose flooded through him. It felt a little like the blind faith that had deserted him years before. It felt good.

Wayne would never understand, but that was okay. Doing the right thing between the main titles and watching the credits roll was never as gratifying as doing it for real. 

The business card he pulled from his pocket said, 'Special Agent Anthony Koster, Training Division, Quantico, Virginia.'

"So long, Wayne," Skinner murmured, as he traced the phone number imprinted under the name. "See you at the movies."


End file.
